


your hand in mine

by icebluecyanide



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e20 A Closer Walk with Thee, Klaus pov, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nightmares, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 22:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13017600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebluecyanide/pseuds/icebluecyanide
Summary: It’s been a long, long time since they were this close. Set during 1x20.





	your hand in mine

 

 

Mikael. He’s dreaming of Mikael again, along with his unborn child. It’s all so perfectly symbolic and the implications are so obvious it’s sickening.

Splashing cold water in his face, he rests his hands on the side of the washtable and peers into the mirror. Troubled eyes stare back at him.

For moment it seems to him as though he has bags under his eyes, but that’s an illusion, of course. He fed just last night and vampires don’t technically need sleep anyway. Even so, his eyes are dark, the pupils wide-blown in the dimness of the bathroom. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights.

He closes his eyes, trying to force the dream from his mind, but it’s futile. The image of his father’s face—the clear hatred in his glare—keeps drifting back to him. He tightens his hands on the edges of the sink to stop them from shaking.

 _Trembling at the mere thought of me, boy?_ Mikael’s voice sneers in his ear, crystal clear as if he were standing right behind him. _Pathetic as always._

Klaus flinches.

There’s no use trying to get any rest after this, he knows. Sleep won’t come again, it never does. It’s hardly the first time he’s had a nightmare of his father, and it likely won’t be the last.

Dragging a weary hand down his face, he lets out a soft breath. He could do with a drink.

 

 

 

He’s still so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the light in the sitting room is on until he’s already stepped inside.

“Niklaus?”

Elijah’s quiet voice makes him look up.

He finds his brother sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room. A light burns on the side-table and his brother holds a heavy tome in his lap, clearly up for some late-night reading. Something about the image strikes him as incongruous, but he can’t put his finger on what it is exactly. His mind seems muddled—from sleep or from lingering fright, he doesn’t know—as he tries to work it out.

Elijah looks—well, not tired exactly, but there is something in his frown and the set of his brother’s eyes that translates to exhaustion.

You wouldn’t be able to tell from his appearance. Elijah is as impeccably dressed as he ever is, tie flat against a creaseless white shirt with even the top button done up. His shoes practically gleam. Usually when the night progressed or in an informal setting his brother might allow himself to relax. He’d take off his jacket, roll up his sleeves, sometimes loosen his tie and unbutton the collar of his shirt. There is none of that now.

His brother puts value on appearances, yes, but this seems excessive even for him. If he’s not mistaken Elijah even shaved.

Perhaps he’s not the only one who decided to have an early start today.

“Elijah,” he finally replies, after a much too long pause. His voice sounds flat and weary even to his own ears and his brother’s brow creases in concern.

Klaus drops down on the sofa, rubbing his face. When he looks up again, Elijah has put aside his book and stands in front of him, eyeing him carefully.

“Rough night?” his brother inquires mildly.

“Sometimes it seems a better idea to simply give up on sleeping altogether,” Klaus says by way of explanation.

Elijah makes a sympathetic sound. “Care for a drink?” he asks, already moving to the decanter in the corner.

“Might as well,” Klaus agrees.

He leans his head back against the sofa and closes his eyes, listening to the sound of his brother picking up the decanter to pour a strong drink into glasses with a practiced move.

The leather of the sofa is cold against his shoulders where it touches bare skin. For all his comments on modesty being for the weak, he doesn’t usually walk around the house without a shirt on. Habit, mostly. He doubts his siblings would care all that much. Elijah might have something to say about impropriety, but then if Klaus took each comment his brother made about appearances to heart he would be wearing a three-piece suit every day.

The relative comfort of the sofa and the familiar presence of his brother are almost enough to make him drowsy, until he remembers what will likely await him in his dreams.

He snaps his eyes open again to see his brother approaching with two tumblers of scotch. Elijah offers him one of the glasses.

“Thank you,” he mutters, accepting the tumbler and taking a sip. The burn of the scotch warms his throat pleasantly.

Elijah inclines his head in acknowledgement, then seats himself next to Klaus on the sofa instead of returning to his chair. He sips his own glass with a pensive look on his face.

It’s quiet for a moment as they drink. There are still a few partygoers outside even at this hour, but the thick curtains block enough of the sound to give at least an illusion of silence. He’s all but forgotten his brother’s presence by the time Elijah speaks up again, carefully not looking at him.  

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

“No,” Klaus says, more harshly than he intends. He immediately feels guilty for snapping at his brother, but Elijah’s face doesn’t change as he nods. He merely takes another sip, looking pensively at nothing in particular.

Klaus lets out a frustrated sigh, making Elijah’s eyes flick back to him. “It was only a nightmare, Elijah,” he adds, hint of an apology in his tone. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“That does not mean you should have to do so alone,” Elijah says quietly.

Maybe it’s the drink or perhaps the lingering effects of his nightmares, but Elijah’s words hit him harder than than they should. He swallows, turning away sharply.

Next to him he hears a click of glass on polished wood as Elijah carefully puts down his glass.

Klaus blinks furiously, angry at himself for the weakness he is displaying, even if it is just in front of his brother. Elijah doesn't mock him, though. Instead he carefully prises the glass from Klaus' hand and sets it on the side table next to his own. He places a warm hand at Klaus' nape and gently pulls him closer.

For a moment Klaus thinks to resist, then he leans forward until his forehead rests against the front of Elijah's expensive suit. Klaus should be pushing him away. Were this anyone other than Elijah, he might have. Instead he closes his eyes, breathes slowly in and out.

Elijah's suit smells clean, and there's the faintest trace of whatever was used to launder it. It also smells like Elijah. Elijah, whose presence is still more reassuring than it has any right to be.

At his neck, his brother's thumb rubs soft circles just below his hairline and slowly but surely it makes Klaus relax his shoulders. Elijah doesn't say a word, but at one point Klaus feels his brother lean forward to press a kiss against his hair.

They stay like that for a long while, until long after Klaus' eyes have stopped stinging.

This close, his brother’s heartbeat is steady and familiar to his ears. It beats the same now as it did ten centuries ago, as it had all those years they spent together, and the sound of it soothes some of the lingering unease in Klaus. Gradually, his own racing heartbeat slows to match Elijah’s.

It’s been a long, long time since they were this close. Klaus can barely remember the last time he and his brother shared some physical comfort that wasn’t tainted with violence. Secrets and betrayals and Mikael had torn them apart, and Klaus’ own lie about their siblings and Elijah’s subsequent murder attempt had made reconciliation seem almost impossible. Even just a few days ago Elijah had thrown him against the wall as they argued once again.

Now, with his forehead resting against his brother’s chest, Klaus can barely remember what the argument had been about.

Elijah is not usually this affectionate. His brother likes to present himself as the epitome of restraint, but tonight some of those ever-present defenses seem to have been lowered. Klaus can imagine why. He hates to admit it, but he finds himself craving his brother's touch now if only to settle him after his nightmare.

Elijah’s fingers still rub circles at Klaus’ neck, slowly moving downwards. His brother slides a hand under the fabric of Klaus’ shirt to rest a warm palm against his spine.

Klaus draws in a quick breath as a frisson travels down his body, coiling low in his stomach. Suddenly gone rigid, he puts a hand against his brother’s shoulder and pushes himself upright. Elijah lets him, his hand slipping from the collar of Klaus’ shirt and moving to rest warmly on Klaus’ bare shoulder. His brother doesn’t seem to have realised his reaction yet and looks at him in question, no doubt wondering about his sudden tension.

Klaus shifts slightly, trying to hide the evidence of how Elijah’s touch has affected him.

It’s embarrassing to get hard just from his brother’s hand on his spine, like he’s some teenaged boy who gets an erection at the most inconvenient of times. The fact that it’s his brother he’s hard for just makes it worse.

It’s not that he’s never crossed that line with Elijah before, because he has. After a thousand years as vampires, social norms have become less important, but even so they could never quite shake the stigma that had been imposed on them as humans.

By all rights Klaus should just excuse himself, take care of this on his own, and go back to sleep. He finds himself reluctant to leave, however. He knows what awaits him in the dark.

Oh, how Mikael would have raged if he’d ever learned of the late-night activities Niklaus had engaged in with his siblings over the centuries. If his father didn’t already hate him and want him dead for killing their mother, this would have given the man reason enough to want Klaus’ blood.

Elijah meets his sideway glance with steady, dark eyes.

Before Klaus can think better of it, he reaches for his brother. He fumbles with Elijah’s tie, pulling it loose and undoing the top button of his shirt.

Elijah watches him, dark eyes never leaving his face. His brother does look tired. Klaus wonders what kind of dream caused him to wake up at three in the morning and decide to read here instead of going back to sleep.

“What are you doing, Niklaus?” Elijah asks in a low voice.

“I’m taking off your tie,” Klaus says, reasonably, not glancing up from his fingers. “There’s really no good reason to look this stuck up at bloody three in the morning.”

“Niklaus.” Elijah captures his wrists and holds them still.

Klaus looks up to meet his brother’s eyes.

“What are you doing?” Elijah asks again.

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. Finally, he simply leans forward and presses his lips against Elijah’s.

Elijah goes completely still.

Klaus pulls back slightly, unable to meet his brother’s eyes. If he has to, he can always blame his actions on the alcohol later. It’s a paltry excuse, given that he’s barely touched his drink, but Elijah might let him get away with it even so.

It’s pathetic how even after all these centuries he still fears his brother might reject him.

Elijah doesn’t, of course. After a moment his brother tightens his hold on him, murmurs “Niklaus” with a hint of warning or caution or perhaps something else entirely. Klaus can’t tell, and neither does he care very much because in the next moment Elijah is kissing him back firmly.

There’s an uncharacteristic urgency to his brother’s movements, to the hand resting at the back of Klaus’ neck and the lips moving against his. Instead of following the thought further, Klaus clutches the lapels of Elijah’s suit to pull him even closer and lets his brother press him back into the sofa.

He doesn’t want to think. Not of his nightmares nor of his brother’s reason for being up so early.

His brother seems of the same mind. Elijah’s hands are warm as they move to Klaus’ bare shoulders. His skin feels feverish against the cool leather of the sofa and everywhere Elijah touches him it sets his nerves on fire.

Klaus is already hard when Elijah first palms him through the thin fabric of his pyjama trousers. He gasps against his brother’s mouth as Elijah starts stroking him.

“Bed,” Klaus manages between open-mouthed kisses, because while he doesn’t want to think he doesn’t particularly feel like shagging on the sofa either. Elijah must agree with him because in the next moment his brother is rushing them past the hallway back to Klaus’ room.

As soon as Klaus kicks the door shut behind him, he finds himself hitting the back of it, Elijah flush against him. His brother presses him against the polished wood, his hand already slipping inside Klaus’ pants.

Klaus groans, bucking his hips into Elijah’s hand, and pushes at Elijah’s suit jacket.

Elijah has to pull back his hand to take off his jacket, which Klaus finds himself protesting with a needy whine. His brother’s lips quirk up.

As soon as the jacket is removed along with Elijah’s tie, Klaus pulls his brother in by the front of his shirt for another kiss. Elijah gladly obliges, his hands finding their way under Klaus’ top. They roam his chest, every touch setting his nerves aflame. One hand moves up, flicking a thumb over his nipple, while the other sneaks around to his back. Breaking their kiss again, Elijah mutters, “Lift your arms.”

When Klaus does so, Elijah helps him take off his shirt, immediately taking a step closer again until their bodies are flush together, the fabric of Elijah’s shirt brushing against Klaus’ bare chest.

Klaus presses his mouth to Elijah’s, his fingers fumbling to unbutton his brother’s shirt. Annoyingly enough, he’s forced to break their lips apart again before long when the buttons keep slipping through his fingers. Elijah is reluctant to let him go and merely presses him closer against the door, sliding a thigh between Klaus’ legs.

“You’re overdressed,” Klaus manages to say in between the moans Elijah is drawing from him.

“Leave it,” Elijah dismisses, claiming his mouth again, but he does finally give Klaus some space when he backs away slightly so he can return to stroking Klaus through his trousers.

Klaus groans. This is taking too bloody long. He clenches his fists in Elijah’s shirt, intending to simply rip it open. His brother must have seen something of his intentions on his face, because in the next moment Elijah’s hands wrap around his wrists, holding him still.

“Niklaus,” Elijah warns.

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Surely you can bear the loss of one measly shirt, Elijah,” he scoffs, but he goes back to unbuttoning the shirt all the same.

“I wouldn’t want to encourage you,” Elijah says dryly, and when Klaus glances up he can see dark amusement dancing in his brother’s eyes.

Refusing to let that deter him, Klaus reaches for Elijah’s belt as well and works to unbuckle it. “Are you certain about that, brother?” he asks mockingly, making sure to brush his knuckles against the bulge in Elijah’s trousers as he lowers the zipper.

“Quite,” Elijah says, but his jaw is clenched and Klaus allows himself a small smirk at the clear sign that he is affecting his brother.

“Only it’s just, surely there are some instances where you’d like me to be encouraged,” he continues conversationally, pulling out Elijah’s cock and starting to stroke it.

“Giving you free reign to take liberties with my person is only asking for trouble.” Despite Klaus working his cock, Elijah still somehow manages to keep his voice even. Klaus has to admit his brother’s restraint is impressive.

Still, it’s nothing he can’t handle.

“Is that so?” Klaus asks, squeezing his fingers around Elijah’s cock, drawing a small gasp from his brother. “Because you certainly seem to be enjoying my attentions.”

Then he pulls away, holding up his hands in a show of innocence. “But if you’d like me to stop—”

He’s cut off by his brother setting a firm hand at the back of his neck and giving him an irritated frown.

“What I’d _like_ ,” Elijah says pointedly, “is for you to stop dallying and put your tongue to better use, Niklaus.”

Klaus smirks. Now there’s an idea.

He lets Elijah’s hand on his shoulder guide him to his knees. There is something quietly possessive about his brother’s fingers coming to rest at his nape, and it sends a shiver down his spine, going right down to his cock. Elijah barely has to exert any pressure to encourage him to kneel.

He’s always enjoyed testing the limits of his brother’s restraint. To see how far he can push his noble brother before the mask starts to crack and the monster he knows lurks underneath shines through. Going down on Elijah is usually an excellent way to accomplish just that and to force his brother to let go of some of that eternal control.

Once on his knees, Klaus focuses on Elijah’s cock, dragging a line with his tongue from the base all the way up to the head. He keeps his touch playfully light, teasing his brother with fleeting kisses.

Elijah’s fingers tighten in his hair as he tenses. Klaus smirks, looking up at his brother.

“What’s the matter, Elijah?” he asks innocently. “Am I going too fast?”  
  
Elijah gives him a reproachful look, although the effect is somewhat lessened by the faint flush on his cheeks.  “Less talking,” his brother decides.

Hiding his smile, Klaus finally takes his brother’s length into his mouth, wrapping his fingers around the parts he can’t reach. He starts off slow, pulling back until only the tip of it is inside. Judging by his brother’s rapid breathing, Elijah is already more affected than he wants to let on.

Klaus swirls his tongue around the head, sucking lightly, and immediately feels Elijah’s fingers tighten in his hair again.

“Don’t be a tease, brother,” Elijah says, sounding a little breathless.

When Klaus flicks his eyes up Elijah is gazing back at him with dilated eyes so dark they’re almost black. He can’t help his smirk at the effect he’s clearly having on his brother.

“Niklaus...” Elijah says dangerously. He tugs Klaus’ hair back, just enough to make it sting.

Rolling his eyes, Klaus nevertheless heeds the warning. He works his brother’s cock in earnest now, using his tongue and fingers to bring him closer to his release.

When Elijah finally comes he does so quietly. His brother doesn’t yell or moan loudly, or even say anything at all. There is only a sharp gasp, and then his body goes completely rigid, fingers pulling at Klaus’ hair again as he comes in Klaus’ mouth. Klaus swallows quickly, holding his brother’s hips to steady him.

He glances up, watching Elijah’s face. His brother’s eyes are closed, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. Elijah sways a little, but Klaus’ grip on his hips holds him up.

Only when Klaus pulls back does his brother open his eyes to look at him again. Elijah slowly uncurls his fingers from where they’re still clenched in the hair at the back of Klaus’ neck. Touching the side of Klaus’ face with one hand, his brother lightly brushes a thumb across his cheekbone. Elijah’s eyes are still dark, but his expression is more relaxed than before.

Klaus uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, then smirks up at his brother. Elijah just watches him with half-lidded eyes as he gets up from his knees and begins to manoeuvre his brother towards the bed. Elijah lets himself be guided easily enough now, his every movement languid and indolent after his release. When the back of his knees hit the bed, it takes only a small shove to make him fall back on the bed.

Elijah immediately attempts to sit up, pushing himself up on his elbows. He is still breathing a little uneven, his hair in disarray and his eyes a little dazed. He looks like a beautiful mess, what with his trousers down at his knees and his white shirt hanging open to reveal his bare chest.

Altogether it’s far from the perfect façade he usually puts up and Klaus would love to just stand there and admire the view. Sadly he’s on a mission.

He kneels before his brother again, making quick work of Elijah’s shoes and socks and throwing them to the side. Elijah gives him a reproachful look from where his brother leans back on his elbows.

Klaus rolls his eyes.

“Those shoes were made by hand from the finest Italian leather,” Elijah says, his voice low.

“Then I’m sure they can withstand a little rough handling,” Klaus replies flippantly.

Elijah still looks unhappy, which is threatening to ruin the mood, and Klaus can’t believe they’re having this conversation about _shoes_ of all things.

“If you find a scratch on them later,” he promises, ”I’ll buy you a new pair.”

He tries to get things back on track by pulling his brother’s trousers down, only to be stopped before he can remove them completely.

Elijah seems to have lost some of his urgency as he pulls Klaus back up for a kiss, uncaring of the way he must be able to taste himself on Klaus’ lips.

Klaus on the other hand doesn’t feel like slowing down and he soon opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. He leans forwards until Elijah's back is pressed against the mattress, but lets his brother put a hand at the back of his neck to pull him closer, then use that to flip them around.

Elijah pulls back, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Patience, Niklaus.”

“Easy for you to say,” Klaus mutters. He bucks his hips, feeling almost painfully hard.

Elijah just smirks at him and uses a hand to push Klaus’ hips down and hold them there. His other hand he uses to trace meaningless patterns on Klaus’ chest.

Klaus lifts an eyebrow. “Are you just going to stay like this, Elijah?”

“Not at all,” Elijah says. “For instance, I believe it is high time we do away with this.” He gave Klaus’ pyjama pants a derisive tug.

“Indeed.” Klaus grins and raises his hips a little off the bed to push off his last remaining items of clothing.

Elijah backs away enough to allow him space and when Klaus looks up his brother has toed off his own trousers and is taking off his shirt. Klaus rolls his eyes again when he sees Elijah folding the shirt over a chair.

“I can’t believe folding your clothes is a greater priority to you than helping me get off,” he complains.

Elijah smiles, then picks up his trousers and deposits them on the chair as well. “Good habits die hard.”

“You’d call cleanliness a better habit than helping your brother in his hour of need?”

Elijah doesn’t even look at him as he retrieves his shoes from where Klaus had cast them aside earlier. “The words ‘patience is a virtue’ come to mind, Niklaus.”

“That is not—” Klaus is starting to protest when Elijah finally finishes with his clothes and crosses the distance back to the bed, silencing him with a kiss.

Elijah easily moves them back onto the bed, pinning Klaus down. He deepens the kiss, exploring Klaus’ mouth with his tongue. When he pulls back some undefinable length of time later he leaves Klaus breathless and a little dazed.

“Patience being a virtue is a ridiculous saying designed to take advantage of the meek,” Klaus manages to say, although in all honesty he’s already forgotten what the argument had been about.

Elijah very nearly rolls his eyes.

“Quiet, Niklaus,” he says firmly, before capturing Klaus’ lips again.

Klaus isn’t usually anywhere close to being a submissive person. In fact, with most people he might just kill them for taking such liberties with his person as Elijah is doing right now, or he would at least remind them of what a bad idea it is to try to push him around.

But then, this is Elijah. And despite the way his brother sometimes seems amused at Klaus’ discomfort, Klaus trusts him in a way he trusts very few others.

Elijah won’t hurt him. It’s a bloody stupid thing to believe, because it’s far from true, but there it is all the same. Elijah has been his big brother for as long as he can remember and he still brings a sense of security with his physical presence that’s entirely unjustified and yet seems to defy all reason.

The simple truth of the matter is that part of Klaus has never really stopped trusting his brother.

Elijah’s teeth nipping at his collarbone startle him from his thoughts, making him gasp.

“Pay attention, Niklaus,” Elijah scolds him, giving him a reproachful look.

Klaus just nods vaguely and pulls Elijah close to claim his mouth again.

Elijah starts grinding against him, and the slide of his brother’s thigh against his cock feels heavenly. Elijah doesn’t set a particularly fast pace, and Klaus finds himself meeting his grinding thrusts in the hopes of spurring him on to go faster.

It doesn’t work, but he can feel Elijah grow hard against his thigh, and his brother does start putting more weight behind his thrusts. The increase in pressure has Klaus groaning loudly until Elijah covers his mouth with his own to muffle the sounds.

Way too soon, Elijah pulls away again. He has an intent look in his eyes as he briefly strokes down the side of Klaus’s face, before putting two fingers on Klaus’ bottom lip. Immediately suspecting where Elijah is going with this, Klaus opens his mouth, letting him in. He swirls his tongue around his brother’s fingers, coating them with saliva.

Elijah’s cock presses insistently against his thigh as Klaus hollows his cheeks, sucking gently at the fingers. He’s rewarded for his efforts by his brother’s sharply drawn breath.

“That’s enough,” Elijah says hoarsely. He pulls his fingers from Klaus’ mouth.

Klaus is hopeful that they’ll get on with things now, but instead Elijah just leans forward to capture his lips, quickly deepening the kiss. His brother’s tongue brushes against his, exploring his mouth. Klaus clings to Elijah’s shoulders as his brother’s advances push his head further back into the pillows.

While his mouth is being ravished, Klaus suddenly feels Elijah’s hand wrapping around his cock, making him gasp. His brother strokes it once, twice, with Klaus’ own spit making the motion easier. Then Elijah’s thumb brushes over the sensitive head.

Klaus’ groan is immediately swallowed by his brother's mouth.

Elijah doesn’t make him wait too long though, and soon enough Klaus feels a finger enter him. He shifts. The sensation is a still a little strange at first, as it always is those rare times he’s the one getting fucked. After a moment, his brother starts moving his finger in tandem with the fist curled tightly around Klaus’ cock, and the oddness of the penetration is the furthest thing from Klaus’ mind.

Already, Klaus is so hard he feels like he might come at any time. He’s so very close, but just as he’s about to go over the edge, Elijah pulls his hands away.

“Elijah,” Klaus growls.

He bucks his hips desperately in search of contact, any kind of stimulation that might tip him over, but all he gets is his brother’s hand pressing him back down again and pinning him to the mattress. He can practically see the amusement dancing in Elijah’s eyes, even if his brother isn’t smiling.

“Soon,” his brother says, “but not yet.”

Klaus lets his head fall back against the pillow in frustration. “You’re a cruel man.”

“Merely ensuring you pace yourself, brother,” Elijah responds, a devilish glint in his eyes.

“You do realise I can come more than once a night, do you not?” Klaus says hopefully.

Elijah just gives him a faint smile.

Klaus groans. He clenches his fists to resist the temptation of trying to finish the job himself, knowing better than to think his brother would let him get off so easily. He’ll have to resign himself to the torture of waiting until Elijah allows him to come.

“This is your way of getting revenge for earlier, isn’t it?”

The thought is a little worrying. If his brother decides to tease him the way Klaus had done to him before, he isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to last.

“Now, would I really be that cruel?” Elijah still looks amused, which isn’t very reassuring.

Klaus is about to respond when Elijah goes back to preparing him, this time using two fingers to stretch him. It hurts a little, but only briefly. There are certain advantages to having a vampire’s rapid healing. His brother strokes his cock to distract him, and leans forward to capture Klaus’ lips again.

Elijah changes the angle of his fingers and Klaus draws in a sharp breath as they brush against that one spot that makes him see stars. Now that Elijah has found it he continues at the same angle, hitting Klaus’ prostate every single time.

All too soon Klaus is a panting mess again, clutching the sheets, practically begging for release. His hips come up to meet Elijah’s thrusts, only to be pushed down again by his brother’s other hand. At some point Elijah adds a third finger, stretching him even further.

As before, the moment Klaus gets close to his release his brother stops. Elijah pulls out his fingers, drawing a disappointed whine from Klaus. This time Klaus doesn’t get a chance to complain however, because Elijah leans over to kiss him again. As he pulls his brother closer with a hand at the back of his head, Klaus feels Elijah’s cock pressing at his entrance to replace his fingers.

Elijah slides in with one slow thrust, until he is buried to the hilt. Klaus groans into his brother’s mouth, feeling more than hearing Elijah’s breath catch. His brother grants him a moment to adjust, perhaps for his own sake as well as Klaus’, busying himself by sucking on Klaus’ bottom lip.

With Elijah pressed so close, pinning him to the mattress and filling him up inside, they feel closer than ever. It’s overwhelming, and yet also not enough. Klaus tightens his fingers in Elijah’s hair. When he shifts his hips, Elijah takes that as his cue to start moving, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in.

Warm lips move from Klaus’ mouth to his jaw, all the way down to his neck, where his brother leaves him open-mouthed kisses. Klaus gasps at the feeling, baring his throat further. It’s impossible for them to get hickeys, what with their healing rate being what it is, but that clearly isn’t stopping Elijah from trying.

It also doesn’t stop his brother from establishing a slow but steady rhythm with his thrusts. Elijah shifts a little, pulling up Klaus’ knee, and suddenly he goes that much deeper, brushing Klaus’ prostate.

Klaus can’t hold back his moan.

“Any louder and you’ll wake the dead,” Elijah says, still at Klaus’ neck. He sounds amused.

It’s clearly meant as a joke, but Klaus’ tired mind immediately flashes to Mikael, the monster who haunts his dreams, and he can’t quite help his sharp inhale. He tries to hide his wince, only with Elijah practically inside him he doubts it will fool his brother.

Elijah’s smile fades as his brother pulls back to consider him carefully, eyes flitting between Klaus’.

“Best we leave them to their slumber,” Klaus says lightly.

“Indeed,” Elijah agrees, still looking at his face like he can somehow read Klaus’ thoughts there.

Klaus tenses. “Are you planning to move again anytime soon, Elijah?” he asks, bucking his hips, but Elijah’s hand merely presses him back down to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Klaus asks.

“You’re distracted,” Elijah remarks. He is frowning.

Klaus’ face darkens. Turns out thoughts of his father are a bit of a mood-killer. “Just get on with it,” he mutters.

Elijah lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t move. “I would appreciate it if I could have your full attention while I’m fucking you, Niklaus.”

A shiver goes down Klaus’ spine hearing his brother’s words. Elijah doesn’t usually resort to vulgarity. “You have it,” he promises, focusing on his brother again. “It was nothing.”

Elijah doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he does slowly start moving his hips again. Klaus throws back his head, panting heavily. He can feel his brother leaning over him, taking his wrists and holding them above his head.

“Good,” Elijah says, his breath hot against Klaus’ ear.

Now that his arms are restrained, it heightens his other senses. He feels his brother’s lips even more acutely than before, the nerves in his skin tingling everywhere Elijah’s hands touch him. His brother kisses him again and Klaus meets him enthusiastically, parting his lips to deepen the kiss, their tongues tangling together.

A particularly hard thrust has Klaus gasping, his moan muffled by Elijah’s mouth.

“Then again, I suppose I will have to ensure I have your full attention from here on out,” Elijah tells him, pulling back a little to meet Klaus’ eyes.

Klaus blinks up at him. “I can assure you I’m thinking of little else,” he says hoarsely.

The corner of Elijah’s lips curls up. “Let’s keep it that way.”

With that, Elijah sets an excruciatingly slow pace that leaves him frustrated. His brother’s thrusts aren’t particularly fast or hard, but he seems to go deeper with every thrust. Their bare chests are almost touching, and every time Elijah moves forward, Klaus’ cock brushes against his brother’s stomach. Elijah claims his mouth again, muffling his moans.

Klaus closes his eyes, and focuses on meeting his brother’s thrusts and matching Elijah’s torturous rhythm.

With his eyes closed and his brother still pinning his hands to the bed, he’s so much more aware of every touch. Elijah’s lips are like fire as they move against his own, and his skin burns hot everywhere his brother covers his body with his own.

“Don’t move your arms,” Elijah murmurs against his lips, releasing Klaus’ wrists.

His brother trails his hands down Klaus’s arms. One hand comes up to touch Klaus’ cheek, with the other supporting his body weight as Elijah pulls away a little. Klaus notices his absence as a rush of cold air brushes his chest, and he bucks his hips in frustration as his brother’s thrusting seems to slow down even further.

He opens his eyes, about to make a complaint about the torturous pace, when he notices the expression on Elijah’s face.

Gone is the amusement from earlier.

Elijah has the same earnest look in his eyes now that he had the day he tried to convince Klaus to accept his child. The same open gaze, and a warmth Klaus has seen there many times before when he was but a child and Elijah would smile and put a hand on his shoulder.

It hits him like a blow to his chest, and for once the way Klaus’ breath hitches in his throat doesn’t have anything to do with how Elijah is still moving inside him with slow, deep thrusts.

Slow, not because his brother is tormenting him, but because he’s being _gentle_.

Elijah looks at him like he loves him and Klaus wants to shout at him for letting himself be so vulnerable. He wants to turn away and hide. He wants to—

His brother’s hands cup his face, thumbs brushing away the tears as they escape Klaus’ eyes. Elijah’s eyes are even softer now, if that is possible, and he looks at Klaus knowingly before reaching forward to press his lips to Klaus’ forehead.

“Elijah,” Klaus whispers, his words coming out more begging than he intends.

Still keeping up the rhythm of his thrusts, Elijah pulls back again. His brother reaches down with one hand to stroke Klaus’ neglected cock, quickly bringing him to the edge once again. It’s almost too much, the combination of Elijah’s dark eyes still staring at him as his brother moves inside him and the fingers on his cock making him gasp for air.

Elijah rests a hand, fingers splayed wide, right over his heart.

And just like that, Klaus is lost. He’s only peripherally aware of Elijah gasping above him, his own senses flooding with pleasure as he falls apart under his brother’s attentions.

Only Elijah’s hand over his heart keeps him grounded, serving like an anchor in the storm. Klaus clenches his hands in the sheets as he rides out his orgasm. He always knew that sleeping with Elijah wasn’t going to be just some mindless romp. How could it be, with all the history between them? All the same, Klaus had forgotten just how intense their coupling could get.

When he comes to again, Elijah is still moving inside him, but there’s a new urgency to his thrusts. His brother cannot be too far from his own release. Elijah leans forward, pressing his forehead against Klaus’. His eyes are closed, his breathing now more rapid than before.

His brother looks like he’s coming apart, so very far from the image of the perfect gentleman he presents to the world.

Klaus breathes in sharply, his hands coming up to hold on to Elijah’s shoulders as his brother continues thrusting. He’s close to being oversensitive already, and the brush of Elijah’s stomach against his cock every time he moves is almost too much.

Elijah trails down the side of Klaus’ face, pressing kisses to his jaw.

It’s not unusual for them to drink from each other during sex, the rush of blood and desire calling on other lusts as well. Klaus tilts his head to bare his throat for his brother, already anticipating the sting of Elijah’s teeth, but the expected bite never comes. All he feels is his brother’s warm breath as he hovers intimately close.

Klaus shivers.

“Niklaus.” Elijah’s lips brush the skin of his neck as he whispers. His brother says his name so softly, between breaths, that Klaus isn’t sure whether he’s meant to have heard it at all.

Elijah sounds desperate. Sounds an inch from breaking.

“I’ve got you, brother,” Klaus whispers, and he puts a hand at Elijah’s nape, bringing him even closer.

Elijah’s thrusts falter then, and Klaus can feel his brother's breath hitch at his neck as he comes. He threads his fingers through the hair at the back of his brother’s head, holding Elijah as he thrusts once, twice more, then shudders and stills.

Warm puffs of air brush against his neck as his brother tries to catch his breath.

Klaus strokes his hair slowly. They stay like that for several long moments, until Elijah’s breathing has evened out. Eventually, Elijah presses a last kiss to his neck, and rolls off of him. The sudden absence of his brother’s warm form pressed against him leaves him feeling cold against the early morning air.

But even without his brother’s warmth Klaus’ limbs feel languid and pleasantly tired as he lies back against the pillow. He observes through half-lidded eyes as Elijah, ever the practical one, pulls loose the bed sheet they’ve soiled and uses it to clean up their mess, but doesn’t so much as twitch, not even when his brother’ fingers brush over his stomach.

Elijah is efficient and focused in his motions, but not rough. Never rough, not when they are like this, at their most intimate or still coming down from that high. There is a gentleness to his touch that Klaus would never admit he craves from his brother.

Klaus puts a hand over Elijah’s just as he’s about to pull away and move off the bed, making his brother’s eyes flicker back up at him.

“Just leave it on the floor,” he mumbles, and for once Elijah doesn’t protest. His brother pushes off the sheet and lies back again, pulling up what remains of the bedsheets to cover the both of them and finding a pillow to rest his head on.

Vampires don’t actually need sleep, just like how they don’t actually get tired, but Klaus still finds himself drowsy as Elijah settles next to him on the bed.

They lie back for a moment, their breathing calming and synchronising until they breathe together softly.

Klaus turns his head to observe his brother. Elijah is staring at the ceiling, a slight frown on his face. His brother still looks tired, but there’s something pensive in his look now. All the same, he seems out of sorts. Klaus can still hear the edge of desperation in Elijah’s voice when his brother whispered his name. Whatever woke him up earlier tonight must have shaken him.

Klaus shifts his own gaze back to the ceiling. He lets his head sink back into the pillow and closes his eyes.

“Elijah?” he asks softly.

There is no reply, but Klaus can hear his brother shift next to him and he knows Elijah is listening.

“What did you dream about earlier?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Then Elijah sighs. It’s little more than a soft exhale, but Klaus knows his brother well enough to recognise it for what it is.

He cracks open his eyes and glances to the side.

Elijah is still looking up, but it’s clear that it’s not the ceiling he’s seeing. Something about his face seems more closed off—more restrained—than earlier, and Klaus knows even before his brother speaks that he won’t be getting an answer to his question.

“Elijah?” he asks again anyway, if only to get some form of acknowledgement.

Another pause, then, “Go to sleep, Niklaus.”

Elijah sounds tired, but there’s something fond in his tone all the same, and it’s that fondness more than anything that makes Klaus drop the matter for now. Besides, he can understand Elijah’s reticence. He doesn’t exactly feel like talking about his nightmares of Mikael either.

Still, before letting sleep take him he shifts his arm until it touches his brother’s. Elijah twitches a little at the contact, but doesn’t pull away. A few breaths later something in his brother seems to relax and he curls his fingers lightly around Klaus’ wrist, leaving them there.

Finally, with Elijah’s warm fingers resting at his pulse, Klaus allows himself to sink further into that dreamless haze until, eventually, he sleeps.

 

 

 

By the time the first light peeks through the curtains, Elijah is already gone. He didn’t really expect his brother to stay, but when he turns over he finds that the pillow next to him still bears the imprint of his brother’s head.

A quick glance around the room shows that the soiled bedsheet is gone from the floor, as are the clothes Elijah had folded over the chair. His brother must have taken them with him when he left.

More surprising is the new addition, however. A black suit jacket hangs from his wardrobe next to the mirror. As he goes over to inspect it, Klaus realises there’s a pair of black suit trousers as well, along with a black silk tie.

Although the suit doesn’t come with a note, Klaus can recognise his brother’s touch. The tie is one of Elijah’s own collection. Klaus has seen him wear it before, even though black isn’t his usual colour. There’s a delicate pattern in the dark silk, almost invisible to see unless the light hits it just right. It’s also carefully pressed, but then he never expected anything less from his brother.

He quirks a smile as he runs his fingers along the soft fabric, not sure whether to be thankful to his brother for the kind gesture or to read it as a criticism of his own fashion choices.

Klaus has his own ties, of course, even if he hadn’t worn one the day before in church. A suit isn’t exactly his normal attire. He’d grown quite tired of them by the time the fifties rolled around, in all honesty.

He has no need of his brother’s tie, but he also can’t stop rubbing the smooth silk between his fingers, considering.

 

 

 

He finds Elijah in the dining room. His brother has already finished breakfast by the looks of it, although he’s still sipping at a cup of tea.

“Niklaus,” Elijah greets him, eyes flicking up to take in his appearance.

“Good morning,” Klaus replies, observing his brother in turn.

Elijah looks better. More relaxed, perhaps, and some of the exhaustion around his eyes seems to have faded. He’s wearing a suit again, but his tie isn’t done up quite as tightly as it had been the night before.

“You found the clothes I laid out for you,” his brother states. He carefully sets down his teacup and makes his way over to Klaus.

“I did.”

“The tie as well, I see,” Elijah says lightly, inspecting the black silk tie Klaus had tied around his neck.

“It was hard to miss,” Klaus replies dryly.

Elijah just hums.

His brother doesn’t mention last night, but then Klaus isn’t sure he expected him to. Their dalliances are rarely discussed when they’re over, certainly not at any length. The sense of physical intimacy only lasts as long as the nights they spend together, and when the sun comes up they all go back to their usual routine. It’s always been that way.

No reason to change now.

The light touch of a finger under his chin makes him tilt his face up, giving his brother space to undo his tie and fix the mess he apparently made of it.

Klaus rolls his eyes. “I know how to do up a tie, Elijah.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Elijah says dryly, not looking up as he works the tie with quick fingers, rearranging it to lie flat. Despite his protests, Klaus has to admit that the knot of his tie does sit better against his throat now.

“Thank you,” Klaus finds himself saying. Elijah looks up at him. “For the tie,” he adds.

Elijah rests a warm hand against the side of his face. The corners of his lips quirk up into a smile briefly, and he lightly pats Klaus’ cheek. “You’re quite welcome, Niklaus.”

Before the moment can linger, Klaus turns away, going to pour himself a drink from the decanter in the corner.

“It’s about time to make an appearance if we want to pay our respects,” Elijah tells him after a moment, checking his watch. “Will you be ready to leave?”

“In a moment.” Klaus sets down the decanter and throws back the drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey in his throat.

When he turns Elijah is waiting for him, already wearing a dark overcoat. He holds out Klaus’ coat for him, so that all Klaus has to do is turn around and slide his arms into the sleeves. It’s almost strange to remember how these same hands that are now helping him into his coat were, just a few short hours ago, taking off his clothes and bringing him pleasure.

Elijah’s hands linger on his shoulders for a moment longer, a reassuring weight, before his brother steps away again.

“Shall we?”

Klaus tugs his coat straight, and nods. “Let’s go.”

He follows Elijah to the door. And if later, as they step out onto the street together, he should pause briefly and Elijah’s shoulder should brush against his in silent support, neither of them mention it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Sahar aka tumblr user rafaelsolanoes, without whose support and enthusiasm and excellent beta reading, this fic would probably not exist.
> 
> And also a shoutout to tumblr users aceclints and ywhiterain for all the feedback/advice.
> 
> As always, any comments/thoughts/reviews would be much appreciated!


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